


rager teenager

by melancholymango



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Anal Fingering, Bad Boy Keith (Voltron), Bickering, Bisexual Disaster Lance (Voltron), Cabinmates actually hehe, Camp Counselor Lance (Voltron), Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Lovers, Gay Keith (Voltron), M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Rivalry, Roommates, Sexual Tension, Soggy Crackers Game, please, urban dictionary it if u dont know what it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25777699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholymango/pseuds/melancholymango
Summary: “You don’t know the first thing about me!”“I know everything I need to know about you! Like it or not, you’re an open book. You have some sad past and you’re still using it as an excuse to be an asshole ten years later. You’re not tough, you’re hurt.”“Yeah? And what about you, pretty-boy?”“What about me?” Lance snaps, glaring defiantly up at him through his bangs.“Desperate for approval because you’re so deeply insecure, lost your virginity here probably last year to some girl you’ll never see again,” Keith pauses then, leaning closer, pressing their foreheads together despite Lance’s thrashing the entire time, “and you’re struggling with your good Christian-boy self right now because you want to /fuck me/ as much you want to fight me.”
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 713





	rager teenager

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, welcome aboard, this is officially the first fic featuring a kink so bizarrely specific that it WASN'T an ao3 automated tag suggestion, so as I'm sure you can imagine, you're in for a treat on this fine Friday night.
> 
> As mentioned in the tags, please DO look up what soggy crackers is if you're not sure, it might be squicky for some.
> 
> And as a note in case it wasn't explained clearly in the fic: Lance is 18 going on 19 this summer, Keith is 20.
> 
> This fic has been a bit of a collaborative effort with @eggyeggplant on twitter, as I didn't even know what soggy crackers WERE until she introduced me to the concept with a fic rec. We've both fumbled and bumbled our way through editing this, but it's ready now. Enjoy!!

It’s strange, really, how Lance can be so anxious about doing something he’s done year after year without any problem. For ten years, he’s found himself in a mess of clean and dirty laundry on his bedroom floor, packing to go away to his favorite summer camp for the season.

Only, this year… he’s packing to go there as a _counselor_ , rather than a camper.

Truth be told, the past few years he’s been fitting in more with the counselors than the other campers, and that’s most of the reason he’s kept going every summer even into his late teens. Rather than spending his days doing scavenger hunts and crafts, he’s spent them hanging out in the staff cabin and staying up late around the fire with the others. 

But, in the same way he’s excited for the change, he can’t help the _anxiety_ that accompanies it.

Being a camper has been such a big part of his life for the past ten years, since he was a scrappy kid with missing teeth, freckles, and ears way too big for him to _ever_ grow into. His family had just moved to another country, his Cuban accent was thick and his desire for approval from his peers was _loud_ , and he didn’t know where to begin when it came to making new friends in a place so different from Varadero.

It was one of his teachers that suggested the summer camp, after noticing the way he was floundering and reverting into himself. His mama had to scrounge the money to send him that first year, but he’s endlessly grateful that she did. 

It was the best thing that ever happened to him. 

He made instant friends, he had so many role models to look up to and turn to for advice, and he found a new sense of home in those lakeside cabins.

Now it’s time for everything to come full circle. It’s _his_ turn to help children that might need someone to help guide them, or even just a friend. He’s going to be the best damn camp counselor he can be… all while staying the show-off, lovable piece of shit, youngest child he’s always been.

He can’t be _too much_ of a boring adult, after all, or the kids would never _like him_ enough to let him in.

\--

Camp Voltron is exactly how Lance remembers leaving it last year, and the year before that, and frankly it hasn’t changed a bit since he arrived that _first_ time. The sign is still crooked, the door on the main hall is still wide open and welcoming any person or bug that wants to invite themselves inside, and the smell of barbecue is still heavy in the air when he steps out of his car into the parking lot. It fills him with a sense of _home_ not unlike returning to Cuba every winter does.

He walks across the grass like he owns it, hauling his heavy suitcase behind him as he walks up the ramp leading to the door. He pokes his head in first, just to make sure the other counselors are inside, and immediately finds all eyes on him. Lance recognizes every single face.

“Lance! You made it!” Hunk greets him first, eager as he rushes over to pull him into a hug. They haven’t seen each other for a few months, though they make a point to visit each other outside of camp a couple times a year now and they text nonstop, it always feels special seeing Hunk here where they first met.

“How was your drive over, Lance?” Allura asks, coming over to throw her arms around him as well.

“Hit any skunks?” James adds, a little cruelly, from where he’s sprawled out across one of the communal couches with a smirk on his face. Lance groans, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“That happened one time! I was sixteen! I _just_ got my license!”

“I swear you smelled the _entire_ summer.” Kinkade adds, propping his feet up on the coffee table. 

“I did not!” Lance squawks back, but he’s smiling around the fake outrage, can’t bring himself to chase the grin from his face even for the sake of his dramatics. He’s happy to be here, happy to be back with his closest friends for another summer. “Where’s our fearless leader Shiro at? Huh? I miss the old man.”

A strange silence falls over the group and for a horrifying moment, Lance wonders if Shiro backed out at the last second and decided to quit. He’s been working there since Lance was twelve, he can’t imagine not having him around to mess with and come to for support at this point.

“He’s out back.” Kinkade answers belatedly, his tone unmistakably tense. Lance glances around at the others, but none of them seem eager to elaborate either. It’s inevitable that his mind jumps to the worst case scenario, but he tries to reel it back in.

“Manning the barbecue?”

“No, Coran’s handling the cooking until the kids come this weekend.” Allura offers, giving a shrug as she moves to sit between James and Kinkade on the couch. “Shiro is, uh, talking to his younger brother?”

“Are you kidding? _The_ infamous little brother is here? The one he tells all the stories about? Oh shit, I’ve gotta meet this guy, he’s practically an urban legend at this point.”

“Oh yeah, he’s _something_ alright.”

“Really? You love pranks, Kinkade, you’re telling me you didn’t hit it off with the guy who put purple hair dye in Shiro’s purple shampoo? He spent an entire summer with a violet poof of hair instead of white, come on, that was priceless.” Lance has to resist the urge to chuckle just recalling the memory, thinking of all the ways Shiro had tried to hide it with hats before inevitably coming clean. Whoever this kid is, he’s gonna be an absolute riot to hang-out with. Lance can’t remember exactly how old Shiro said he was, but a brother of Shiro’s is a brother of Lance’s, he’s sure they’ll get along. “I’ll be right back.”

“Lance, you _might not_ wanna go out there.” This time it’s Hunk to speak up, his voice more timid than it’s been for a long time, and Lance turns to stare at him in confusion. He doesn’t understand what he’s missing about this situation. “He’s not Shiro, I’ll tell you that much. He’s sort-of… mean. Really mean.”

Is that all? They’re getting all nervous and flustered because the guy gave a bad first impression? 

“Come on, guys, he’ll love me.” Lance scoffs, shaking his head as he turns to the back door. He crosses the room with a flourish, winking back at the group of them. “ _Everyone_ loves me.”

And while no one tries to argue with him (because it’s the truth, thank-you very much), none of them inspire a vote of confidence with their expressions alone. They all look apprehensive, to an extent that Lance can’t really understand. What did this guy do in the first hour or two of being here that left such a terrible impression behind? Did he commit arson or something like?

Lance steps out into the warm summer air and breathes it in, eyes falling closed for a moment. He gives a quick greeting to Coran, who pulls him into a hug and nearly burns him with a hot spatula in his rush to bring him in. But then, Coran gives him a pat on the back and directs him to find Shiro around the side of the building, where the dumpsters are kept. Strange, but Lance supposes they must have wanted privacy, he almost feels bad about being the one to interrupt it.

Not bad enough to second-guess himself though, not when he’s looking forward to seeing Shiro again.

He turns the corner with a smile plastered to his face, only for it to falter when his gaze lands on the scene in front of him. Shiro pacing angrily back and forth through the dirt, with some other guy leaned up against the wall of the building, head tucked low to his chest and arms crossed. They both look pissed, and Lance has never once in his life seen Shiro angry before this moment.

He should go.

But… well, sue him, he’s intrigued. 

If this is Shiro’s little brother, which he must be, Lance is caught completely off-guard by the lack of similarities between the two of them. Of course Lance had known Shiro’s brother was adopted, but that still wasn’t enough to prepare him for the contrast of Shiro in khakis and a polo shirt and this guy in his ripped jeans and leather jacket. He looks like he just walked away from his shift at Hot Topic, piercings and tattoos, eyeliner lining those dark mysterious eyes of his, his hair choppy and black.

“Seriously? You’re gonna give me the silent treatment? Jokes on you, that stopped working a decade ago, I _relish_ your silence nowadays.” Shiro snaps at him finally, so suddenly that Lance flinches backward in shock. Shiro turns, glaring at his brother. “I’m not asking that much of you.”

“Yeah, just to give up every fun thing in my life.”

“Drugs, alcohol, and gang involvement are _not_ fun activities.”

“Tell me, Shiro, are you my brother or my parole officer?”

“Keep on the path you’re going down right now and you’re gonna need me to be both.” 

“Love the amount of faith you have in me to govern my own life.”

“Keith. I think this place will be good for you-”

“Yeah, it might have been when I was _ten_.”

“I didn’t _know you_ when you were ten, damn it! I’m trying to be here for you now, so let me. All I’m asking is that you take a step back from it and reevaluate what you _want_ in life. If at the end of the summer you want to throw yourself back into where you were before, fine, you can go.”

“But you’re not coming with me?” Keith speaks up then, his voice hushed. Unlike the insolent way he’s been snapping at Shiro this entire time, now his voice is soft with guilt, anxious. He looks up from behind the curtain of his bangs for the first time, staring at Shiro expectantly. “That’s the unspoken ultimatum, right? If I don’t change, you’re gonna leave?”

“Keith.” Shiro inhales heavily, reaching up to rub at the space between his eyebrows, fending off an oncoming headache. “I’m not _going_ anywhere, I’ll be in the same house and my door is always open to you. You’re the one that’s leaving me in the dust, kid. I can’t keep chasing after you and trying to help if you don’t want me to. I can’t stand by and _watch_ you hurt yourself. You have to understand that.”

“I do!” Keith shouts back at him, his voice shaking, and then Lance watches as his scowl crumples into a pained wince. “I do, Shiro, I— _who the fuck are you_?!” 

Lance flinches, barely able to predict it when Keith suddenly glanced to the side, avoiding eye contact with Shiro and ending up glaring in Lance’s direction in one split second. Lance scrambles backward, then takes a step toward Shiro, entirely at a loss for what the safest thing to do is. 

“S-Sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt anything!” Lance’s voice cracks. “I was just looking for Shiro!”

Keith still looks rightfully murderous that Lance had been eavesdropping, his thick eyebrows drawn low over his eyes, his teeth bared in a distinctly animal-like way. Shiro, on the other hand, seems relieved to be interrupted. He brightens up considerably, a smile flashing across his kind features.

“Lance!” Shiro steps toward him and Lance makes his mind up, stumbling forward and into Shiro’s open arms. Shiro pulls him in against his chest with one arm, squeezing him to his side. “It’s good to see you!”

“You too.” Lance grins up at him. Of course, they can’t go on like that for long, not with the sheer amount of furious energy being directed at them from Keith’s direction. Lance swallows hard, giving a slightly more uneasy smile as he turns toward their audience. “And you, you must be Keith? I’ve heard great things, buddy, Shiro speaks the world of you… even after you dyed his hair purple as a prank.”

Keith’s expression doesn’t soften in the slightest. Lance flounders, leaning into Shiro’s side a little closer.

“Hey, I just had a crazy idea.” Shiro blurts, loud enough to startle them both out of their prolonged awkward eye contact. Lance looks up at him. “You two should share a cabin together!”

Well, he certainly wasn’t fucking kidding about it being a crazy idea, was he?

“ _Oh_ ?” Lance croaks, his cheeks aching under the strain of holding his unnatural smile. “ _Should we_?”

“Yes!” Shiro gently shoves Lance away, clapping his hands together excitedly, goofy as ever in his blatant enthusiasm. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before. Lance knows his way around here like the back of his hand, he’s the perfect person to show you around and break you in. He’s been coming here since he was ten, if there’s anyone who can show you the appeal of this camp it’s him!”

Lance looks back and forth between them, his words dead somewhere in his throat, uncertain how to go about untangling this situation. He ends up staring at Keith, eyes wide and pleading, because even if he can’t figure out a way to talk Shiro out of this, he’s probably capable of putting Lance out of his misery.

“Shiro.” Keith says, tone unsettlingly even compared to how he’s been speaking.

“Come on, Keith, you’ll love him. He’s Lance, _everybody_ loves him, he’s like the camp mascot.”

Lance desperately wishes he could appreciate that high level of praise coming from Shiro, his role model throughout the entirety of his teenage years. As it is, he’s trying to hold his lunch down, thinking about trying to sleep each night with _Keith_ in the bunk across from him. All he can do is hope that Keith is stubborn enough to talk his way out of this somehow, which he certainly seems to be.

“I’m not sharing a cabin with a stranger, you _promised_ me I wouldn’t have to.”

“Well, yes, but we only have so many cabins here. The alternative is you sharing a cabin with me, but seeing as I’m such a parole officer of an older brother… I figured you might appreciate some distance.”

Oh no, Lance had drastically underestimated Shiro’s older brother negotiating abilities.

“Fuck.” Keith snaps, kicking up dirt with the toe of his boot. “Fine! I’ll room with the camp kid whose biggest accomplishments in life are the trophy he earned in middle school and the fact that he rocks at scavenger hunts, sure. I’d _love_ that. I can’t think of a single way I’d rather spend my summer!”

With that, Keith turns and stomps off. Lance can’t help but wonder if he has any idea where he’s going when he wanders into the woods, but Shiro doesn’t seem too concerned about it, so he decides to leave it be. Clearly Keith needs some time to cool-off, preferably before he and Lance meet up again tonight at their _shared cabin_. Fuck. This is what Lance gets for sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.

“Well, he seems _lovely_.”

“Lance.” Shiro bursts out laughing, clapping a hand onto Lance’s shoulder and leaning on him for support, shaking his head fondly. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it, I _know_ he sucks at first impressions.”

“Talk about understatement of the century.” Lance mutters, breathing a sigh of relief, knowing that he doesn’t have to lie his way through this entire exchange. “Geez, he’s _nothing_ like you.”

“You’d be surprised, actually. We have a lot in common.” 

“Are you a pop punk fan, Shiro? Is that what you’re telling me?” Lance asks him, inhaling sharply in shock, hand over his heart. Shiro rolls his eyes, but the smile never leaves his face, and Lance is pleased to see the easy friendship they’d started to really cultivate last summer is still going strong now. A part of him had worried Shiro would revert back to seeing him as a kid, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

“Look, Lance, I wouldn’t ask this of anyone else.” Shiro says then, surprisingly serious as they walk back toward the main hall together. Lance glances up at him. “I mean, he’s my little brother, he means the world to me. I’m not like you, I don’t have a big family, I have my elderly parents and I have Keith. He means the world to me, all I want is for him to be happy and safe. I’m sure you understand that?”

“I do.”

“That’s why you’re perfect for this!” Shiro throws his hands up in the air, veering in front of Lance so suddenly that he nearly trips over his feet in his rush to stop walking. “He’s got a troubled past, yes, but you’ll be surprised by how much more there is to him! He’s got a heart of gold, that kid, he’d give anyone the shirt off his back and he’d lay down his life for the people he cares about.”

“So, what? You’re recruiting me to be his friend?”

“No, of course not.” Something about the quick dismissal gives Lance the impression that that’s exactly what Shiro is trying to do, but he doesn’t call him out on it. “I’m asking you to give him a chance. That’s all. You don’t have to promise me anything more than that. Just, keep an open mind and don’t write him off by what you see on the surface. Behind those walls is the best friend you’ll ever make.”

“Better than Hunk?” Lance questions.

“Well, maybe not Hunk-level, but who is?”

“He’s not gonna kill me in my sleep?” 

“No, of course not… he’d want you awake, he likes a challenge.”

Lance is stalling at this point, despite knowing in his heart that he’s already made up his mind about this. 

The thing is, Shiro has never asked Lance for much of anything despite all he’s done for Lance. He’s been a shoulder to cry on, a supporter when Lance was at his least confident, and a male role model to look up to when everyone else in Lance’s life felt a little rocky and unstable. This is the only time Shiro has ever come to him for help and looked so invested, like Lance is the only one he can possibly count on.

Lance can’t imagine letting him down.

“Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll give him a chance.”

“I knew I could count on you, Lance!”

\--

That night, Lance is late retiring to his cabin. He’d spent a good few hours catching up with his friends, settled between Hunk and Shiro on the couch, grinning and laughing while they recalled old memories from the years past and planned for new ones for this upcoming summer. 

It was nice. Everything he’d hoped it would be and more. A part of him was almost dreading the arrival of the children this weekend when it was so nice to just have time to themselves.

An even bigger part of him, however, was dreading his return to his cabin.

Despite the better part of twelve hours passing, no one had seen Keith since he stormed off into the woods earlier. Honestly, Lance would be manning a search party by now, but apparently he’d been texting Shiro off and on throughout the day and had found his way to their designated cabin and holed up there like the social butterfly that he is.

Needless to say, Lance is apprehensive when he walks back to the cabin that night. He can’t help but compare it to walking into a bear’s cave, uncertain what might greet him when he pushes the door open.

The room is dark, illuminated only by the small bedside lamp, but Lance can still make out the very clearly unimpressed glare shot in his direction. Keith has headphones on his head, big blocky ugly ones, and he’s sprawled across his bed on top of the covers in nothing but his boxers.

Lance averts his eyes, feeling his face heat up despite himself.

He moves to his bed, dropping his things onto the creaky mattress and going about his yearly ritual of setting his things up. Only this time he’s painstakingly aware of the way Keith’s gaze follows him around the room, silently judging every knick knack he unveils from his belongings. 

Eventually, he can’t take the tension anymore and he turns around, a wide smile on his face.

Keith immediately rolls over to face the wall, situating his headphones over his ears more securely as if to block out whatever Lance might be about to say. Lance sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair before tentatively approaching Keith’s bed. He stands beside it, his shadow cast over the other boy, until finally Keith groans and rips his headphones off. He tosses them at the wall with enough force to leave a dent in the drywall, but Lance doesn’t comment on that.

“What do you _want_?”

“So, we didn’t really get off on the right foot, but I was hoping we could be friends.” Lance explains, inviting himself to sit down on the edge of Keith’s mattress. He still doesn’t turn over, he keeps staring at the wall like it holds the secrets of the universe, or maybe it’s just more interesting than Lance. His confidence takes a bit of a hit when Keith doesn’t even reply, but he’s not so easily deterred. “I’m Lance.”

“I’m not here to make friends.” 

“It never hurts to have someone in your corner, though.”

“It does when they’re a damn spy for my brother.”

“I’m not a spy for Sh-”

“I’m not doing coke, Lance, you’ve done your duty as my designated babysitter. Now, fuck off.”

With that, Keith pulls the blankets over his head with such force that it sends Lance toppling off the bed onto the wooden floor, and he ends up with a splinter in his palm. With a wince, Lance sits back up and stares at the vaguely human-shaped pile of blankets in front of him.

“You do coke? Like, _cocaine_?” He blurts, stupidly. He doesn’t get a response. “Look, I know what it seems like, but I’m not trying to force a friendship because your brother asked me to. I’m genuinely curious about you. You’re all mysterious and cool. I like your whole… edgy vibe.”

Lance watches with bated breath as Keith slowly pulls the blanket back down, even going so far as to roll over and face Lance for the first time. It feels like something tremendous, like the biggest progress Lance could have ever hoped for, and he can’t chase the smile from his face even if he tries.

“Seriously?” Keith whispers, to which Lance nods eagerly. “Alright, can I ask you a serious question?”

“Yeah, of course.” Lance says hurriedly, though he’s not sure where this is going.

“Has anyone ever... _drowned_ in that lake?” 

“Oh, no, those are all rumors!” Lance insists quickly, realizing what’s going on here with sudden raging clarity. All the counselors and older campers have that rumor thrown at them early on, about the ghost that haunts the campground. Maybe Keith is nervous about spirits. “No need to worry. No deaths have ever happened on camp property. It’s just a scary story some kids came up with a couple years back.”

“Well, there’s a first for everything, right?” Keith says then, confusing Lance momentarily.

Without any warning, Keith’s hand darts out from the covers to grab the collar of Lance’s shirt. He hauls him forward, until his chin rests on the mattress and their faces are left inches apart. Lance’s mouth feels inexplicably dry, staring into those dark eyes up close like this. “Keep fucking bothering me when I’m trying to sleep and we’ll _make_ that story a reality.”

“Noted.” Lance squeaks, prying Keith’s hand off and then scrambling backward.

Keith rolls back over to face the wall and Lance all but jumps into his own bed, feeling overwhelmed by the amount of mixed feelings fluttering about in his head. He should be mad, rightfully so, he’d just had a death threat thrown at him as casually as a joke might be… but he doesn’t find any anger in his chest.

He feels flighty and nervous, like a deer caught in a city, uncertain which way to turn when everything is so damningly unfamiliar. He doesn’t think his heart has ever raced this fast.

Lance doesn’t fall asleep for _hours_ that night.

\--

Lance wakes up first the next morning and spends an hour sitting in his bed, staring at his phone and waiting for Keith to get up. He doesn’t really wanna risk waking him up before he’s ready, but it’s already creeping toward noon, and Lance is sure the other counselors will be wondering where they’re at. 

Every now and then he’ll glance in Keith’s direction, just to check for any sign of life, and find his gaze lingering there. Keith is an entirely different person when he’s asleep, all quiet sighs and thick lashes resting on high cheekbones, where words like gentle and serene might even be applied to him. 

He’s almost _pretty-looking_ when there isn’t a glare or a scowl darkening his soft features. 

Lance is staring at him when his eyes fly open, so sharp and sudden that they both startle at the sudden eye contact, scrambling to look away in unison. Lance sits there, staring down at his blankets, listening to Keith’s heavy rushed breaths evening themselves out. A nightmare, maybe?

Sympathy wrings through him and Lance makes up his mind then and there that he’s gonna try again.

One more try, third time’s a charm, he’ll give it an honest effort because Shiro deserves that. 

Lance gets to his feet in a hurry, beginning to pull his clothes on and get ready for the day. In the time it takes him to get dressed, fix his hair, and apply moisturizer… Keith manages to sit up in bed.

“Rise and shine, it’s a new day and we’re gonna try this again.” Lance informs him, spinning around and grinning at him, wide and unabashed. Keith looks disoriented, like he’s still tired despite sleeping in so very late. Lance snaps his fingers in the air, drawing his attention. “Let’s go for a walk!”

“Are you gonna lead me off into the woods and abandon me there?”

“No.”

“Damn. Death by bear might be preferable to rooming with a living alarm clock.” Keith mutters, but Lance watches as he swings his legs over the side of the bed and gets to his feet. 

He yawns, reaching up to cover his mouth, and Lance can’t tear his gaze away from the way his muscles flex in those massive biceps. Like this, clad only in his boxers, Lance can also see the handful of tattoos littered across his body, from a paw-print to a sword, all intricate black lineart. 

Then he bends over to pull some clothes out of his still-packed suitcase on the floor and Lance averts his eyes, because no one wants to room with a pervy cabin-mate and Lance refuses to be that guy. 

But, well, he’s gotta admit that this mildly-murderous roommate of his isn’t nearly as hard on the eyes as he is on the head. And Keith is moving _so slow_ , he can hardly be blamed when his gaze trails back over to the round curve of that _ass_.

This time, Keith catches him right away, straightening up to pull his shirt on and turning around in one swift movement. He finds Lance staring again and this time he doesn’t dismiss it so easily, neither one of them averts their eyes. Lance feels paralyzed in spot under that scrutinizing stare.

“Enjoying the view?”

“What?! No! No, I was just-”

Keith ignores him completely, bending down to pull up his shorts while Lance’s mouth keeps moving a million miles a second. He’s not even sure what he’s saying anymore, just rattling off more and more flustered excuses, and he thinks he might even catch a ghost of a smile on Keith’s lips the further he embarrasses himself over it.

When Keith wordlessly turns to the door and heads outside, Lance finally slams his mouth closed and shuts up, hurrying after him. Lance is eager to show off their best trails, already prepping his usual tour-guide spiel he offers to the newbie campers, but Keith doesn’t even slow down for the trail sign.

“Where are you going? The trail was back th-”

“ _I’m_ going to find Shiro and get breakfast, I don’t know what _you’re_ doing.”

“Keith!” Lance grabs onto his sleeve, stubbornly not letting go even when Keith tries to pull his arm away from him. Keith turns back to look at him then and there’s a tense moment where Lance wonders if he’s crossed the line this time. “Come on? Exercise in the morning is good for you, it’ll wake you up.”

“You must _really_ care what Shiro thinks of you to go through all this trouble just to impress him.”

“Yeah, and? What are you implying?” Lance asks quietly, not liking the sinister tone Keith is speaking in now, all low and conspiratorial like he can’t let anyone else overhear him. He steps closer, into Lance’s space, and that haunting toothy grin still doesn’t leave his face.

“You got a crush on him?”

“What?! No!” Lance croaks, dropping Keith’s sleeve. “He’s like a brother to me!”

It’s the truth, but Lance is immediately aware of how much it was the worst thing he could have said in this particular scenario. Something akin to hurt flashes across Keith’s face and he steps back, looking tense as he struggles to come to terms with the confession. 

Obviously Lance isn’t trying to steal his role in Shiro’s life, not at all, but he _knows_ that Keith is already self-conscious about Shiro leaving him from what he’d overheard the day before. Of course this hurt his feelings, made him second-guess again.

“Is that so?”

“I didn’t mean-”

“He would have been lucky to have a brother like you, huh?” Keith says then, a humorless little chuckle slipping past his lips. “A little carbon copy of him to parrot back whatever he says, incapable of forming opinions of their own? Perfect, aren’t you? I bet you’d _never_ disappoint him.”

“What’s your _problem_?”

“I don’t like you! I’m never _going_ to like you. In fact, you should be thankful I’m standing here taking the time to explain this when it’d be so much easier to just punch your pretty-boy perfect face in.”

“Do it then, jackass!” Lance snarls, landing his hands on Keith’s chest and giving him a shove.

“Oh, you’ve got a deathwish.” Keith steps closer and grabs hold of Lance’s shirt, and though he kicks and flails, it’s immediately obvious that he’s no match for Keith. He’s slammed against a tree, his back and shoulders stinging with pain from the impact as Keith pins him there.

“You know what? Shiro _would_ have been lucky to have a brother like me.” Lance sets his sights on the only weak spot he’s known Keith to have and digs his nails in, merciless as he goes straight for the heart with his words. “At least I’m not such a trainwreck that I need a babysitter at twenty years old!”

“You don’t know the first thing about me!”

“I know _everything_ I need to know about you! Like it or not, you’re an open book. You have some sad past and you’re still using it as an excuse to be an asshole ten years later. You’re not tough, you’re _hurt_.”

“Yeah? And what about you, pretty-boy?”

“What _about_ me?” Lance snaps, glaring defiantly up at him through his bangs.

“Desperate for approval because you’re so deeply insecure, lost your virginity here probably last year to some girl you’ll never see again,” Keith pauses then, leaning closer, pressing their foreheads together despite Lance’s thrashing the entire time, “and you’re struggling with your good Christian-boy self right now because you want to _fuck me_ as much you want to fight me.”

Shit.

Lance doesn’t have an immediate comeback to that last one, not when it leaves him reeling with the heavy realization that Keith is at least partially maybe correct. Lance is definitely feeling some type of way, with that heavy fist on his chest, effortlessly pinning him one-handed to a tree. 

He’s pretty sure Keith could pick him up clean off the ground if he wanted to, which is not the thing he should be entertaining right now if he wants to compose himself enough to layer on the denial.

Because he has to. He has to deny it. He can’t give Keith the upperhand in this game by admitting he’s even remotely attracted to him, he’d never live this down. Anything else he says would be rendered useless, he can’t insult Keith and admit he’s attracted to him in the same breath.

“Thanks for the offer, but I have better options.” Lance bites, grinning stubbornly back at him. “I’m the _furthest_ thing from a virgin. I’ve been with so many girls that I’ve lost count. Ask anyone here, I’m not hurting for hook-ups, I have my hands full of offers. So, thanks, but no thanks. I can do better.”

It doesn’t inspire much confidence when Keith’s response is to laugh in his face.

“Yeah? Is that so? You want me to believe that you’re a proper fuckboy?”

“I guess you could say that.” Lance offers, stiffly, hoping he’s not blushing at the topic. Keith continues to laugh, so bubbly and lighthearted that Lance would feel compelled to join in if it weren’t so plainly at his expense. Keith is laughing at him, like he can see right through Lance’s lie, and it doesn’t make _sense_.

No one else has ever called him out on his bullshitting before,, mostly because it’s not an entire lie. 

It’s just… a wild exaggeration on the truth.

He’s not a virgin, _okay_ ? Not by any definition. He’s slept with _three_ different girls! Sure, two of those girls were one night stands, but still! Anything that he’s missing out on because of his lack of mileage, he makes up for with his own creativity and willingness to try new things. He experiments on his own.

He’s got toys. So many toys. He’s had more things up his ass than most men try in their entire _lifetime_.

Keith is still giggling in front of him, his hand trembling where it holds Lance’s shirt, his face flushed.

“You pull girls by the dozens? Got them messaging you all hours of the night? Lining up down the block?”

“What’s so fucking funny about that?!”

“You’re just… such a fucking virgin.”

“Suck my dick, asshole.”

“I bet it’s tiny.” Keith says then, untangling his hand and stepping backward, a cruel smile on his face that only seems to grow the more he stares at Lance’s dishevelled appearance. “Your dick, I mean. That’s why you’ve got such a chip on your shoulder, why you’re so desperate to prove yourself to everyone. It adds up. You’ve got an inferiority complex because your dick’s small.”

“Whatever.” Lance reaches up, fixing his clothes and smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt. Keith is still staring at him though, amusement so obvious that Lance has to wonder if his half-hard cock is giving him away even through the jeans he’s wearing. He doesn’t look down.

He walks away, shoulder-checking Keith as he goes. “Enjoy your summer, jackass, you’ve got two long months ahead of you if you insist on making enemies out of everyone you meet.”

\--

The days following that interaction, Lance makes a point to avoid Keith as much as possible. Considering the fact they share a cabin, it’s weirdly easy to avoid him, and not even because Keith is making an extra effort to avoid him. Keith sleeps in until well past noon when he’s left uninterrupted and Lance can hang-out in his friend’s cabins until it’s late enough for Keith to pass out at night, so in reality… the only time Lance really sees Keith that week are when he’s unconscious or stuffing food down his throat.

It helps when the kids arrive that weekend and Lance has something to do with all of his spare time, while Keith retreats to the cabin even more to avoid the small army of six-to-seventeen year olds.

So for two long weeks, Lance barely sees Keith around, and it’s _glorious._

Then, the unthinkable happens, and Shiro starts inviting (forcing) Keith to accompany him out on his daily camp counseling duties. Granted, it’s not like Lance and Shiro work side by side, they each have their own group of children they watch over. But every other day, each counselor teams up with a different counselor, so the kids can interact and have more opportunities to make new friends within the camp.

AKA Tuesdays and Thursdays, Lance and Shiro group up, and by extension… Keith.

Initially Lance had been worried about Keith interacting with kids, his sense of humor is remarkably dry and his patience is thinner than James’ receding hairline… but something even worse than Lance ever could have predicted happens when all of the kids immediately take a liking to Keith. 

The teen guys all think he’s cool, with his could care less attitude and the way he razzes Shiro. The teen girls swoon after him like he’s the lead vocalist from their favorite band. And the little-little kids? The snot-nosed temper tantrum-throwing six-to-ten year olds? They love him because he gets _involved_ , plays hopscotch and draws cool dragons out of chalk, carries them around for hours on his back and never seems to get worn out by their endless amounts of energy.

And damn it, it’s fucking cute, alright? You got him, Lance is a sucker for people that look like they could beat him up but use their strength to push kids on the swingset instead. He’s a man of simple taste and if he wasn’t confidently in the questioning stage of his sexuality, he sure as hell is now.

Lance _hates_ how hard it becomes to hate Keith when he watches him apply band-aids to booboos and play cowboys and robbers with his pint-sized minions. 

He hates it even more because _he’s_ always been the cool counselor, everyone’s favorite, and Keith doesn’t steal his title as much as… share it. When the kids mention how much they love Lance, there’s now an “and Keith!” tacked onto the statement. It almost makes him wonder what a dynamic duo they could make if they teamed up.

They don’t.

Their rivalry burns hotter than ever.

“Another one for the pile.” Keith comes strolling into the cabin with a wicked grin, swinging a medal around on his finger before tossing it into the growing pile on his desk. Lance grits his teeth, refusing to take the bait and put his book down. He tries to focus harder on the words on the page, even as they blur together before his eyes. “It’s weird, everyone told me you were the best at these games when I got here, but now I’m wondering if they confused you with someone else. Do you even _have_ a medal yet?”

“You’re not a camper or a counselor, you shouldn’t even _be_ competing.” Lance mutters, unable to keep from saying something when Keith is gloating so openly.

He’s not even that good, for the record.

He’s not above _cheating_ either, like today during their swimming races, when he’d accidentally kicked a faceful of water into Lance’s lane. Swimming has always been Lance’s time to shine, damn it, he knows he’s faster than this idiot! The size of his shaggy mullet alone must take away from his hydrodynamics! 

“Aw, come on, don’t be a sore loser about it.” Keith whispers, settling at the foot of Lance’s bed, not even faltering when a foot connects with his thigh and tries to kick him off. “Did you come back here early to nurse your wounds? Did I wound your pride that badly? You shouldn’t take it so personal, pretty boy.”

“It doesn’t make _sense_ . I’m a way better swimmer than you, my form is perfect!” Lance explodes finally, tossing his book to the ground haphazardly. “You just have so much fucking _stamina_ , damn it! I gotta know. What’s your secret?! You didn’t take a breather all day! Do you jog on the regular, huh? Is that it?”

Despite all his poking and prodding, Keith seems _surprised_ by the sheer extent of reaction he’s garnered.

For a few minutes, he sits there with wide eyes and a slack jaw, blinking dumbly back at Lance.

“Do I jog?” Keith parrots eventually, a smile slowly stretching across his lips, entirely too pleased. Lance knows immediately that he shouldn’t have opened his mouth. “Is that what you ask all the women you sleep with too? When they inevitably wanna keep going longer than your _stamina_ will allow?” 

“Ugh, here we go again.” Lance flops back against the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. “What is it with you and your obsession with my sex life? It’s getting weird, Keith, I might have to report you to Coran.”

“You walked right into the sex talk, bragging about your skills as much as you did. Talk yourself up like that and expect me not to try and knock you down a peg? Seriously, it’s your own fault.”

“Look, believe what you will, but I’ve never had any complaints.”

“They probably just didn’t have the heart to tell you, not when they knew you’d get all huffy about it.”

Lance lifts his head to shoot him a glare, kicking him again. Keith just grins, unashamed, radiating smugness. He kicks his shoes off too, shuffling fully onto Lance’s bed, like he was ever given an invitation.

“Who are you to say _I’m_ a virgin anyway?” Lance muses aloud then, something he’s been thinking about for a while now but never got the chance to bring up when they were avoiding each other. “How many people can you really convince to sleep with you when you act like such an _asshole_ all the time?”

“Doesn’t matter how I act when they’re only there _for_ my asshole.” Keith counters, to which Lance can’t help but wrinkle his nose, off-put by the sheer bluntness of the statement. “If they’re cool about it, we don’t even have to look each other in the eye once throughout the entire process.”

“That’s not _sex_ , though.” 

“Pretty sure it is, dude? Did you take sixth grade biology with the rest of us?”

“No, I mean… what’s the point of doing it with a partner if your _only_ goal is to get off? It’s just assisted masturbation. You’re missing out on the best part of sex; _the connection with another person_.”

“ _Aw_.”

“Shut-up!”

“Do you hold all of your partners in your arms? Kiss and dote on them while you take them to cloud nine? Whisper sweet nothings in their ears? Tell them how much they mean to you?” Keith looks over at him, cupping his own face and batting those long lashes of his, sarcasm so thick in the air that Lance feels like he could choke on it. His glare harshens. Keith coughs into his fist. “ _Virgin_.”

“I’m _not_ a virgin!” Lance insists, for what must be the hundredth time. “I’m serious! _Ask Allura_!”

His words ring heavily in the room, seemingly echoing off the walls. He realizes too late what he’s just let slide, the weight of the confession he’s just admitted to, the power he’d just handed directly to Keith in this back and forth game of theirs. Keith’s expression alone says it all, the quirked eyebrow and the slanted smile, entirely devious in nature. Lance glares harder.

“ _Oh_?”

“Don’t ask her, Keith, don’t you fucking dare bring it up to her.” Lance immediately backtracks, hiding his blushing face behind his hands. It’s not that him and Allura are on bad terms, quite the contrary actually, after their break-up they actually became very close friends. Almost as close as Lance and Hunk are. Of course, with that new friendship comes a tentative “we don’t talk about it” rule regarding their history.

It’s not that it was bad, but they were young and dumb and clearly not right for each other, and it saves them both a whole lot of awkwardness and cringe-worthy memories to ignore it.

“You guys used to _fuck_?” Keith whispers, a certain level of awe in his tone. Lance can’t deny that it’s nice to finally have Keith look at him with an ounce of respect, but there’s an air of disbelief engulfing him that Lance isn’t nearly as appreciative of. Lance stubbornly refuses to comment. “Seriously? She is so out of your league, how the hell did you make that happen?”

“I’ll kill you.” Lance snaps, resisting the strong urge to roll out of the bed and storm out of the cabin.

“That’s who you lost your virginity to. At camp. Am I right?” Keith seems adorably impressed with himself for deducing that much, so Lance decides to throw him a bone.

“Yes, but she’s not the _only_ girl I’ve been with.” Lance reminds him. Keith doesn’t seem to hear his words though, he looks faraway from the moment, lost in deep thought. Exactly what Lance hadn’t wanted. He doesn’t want to watch the gears in Keith’s mind turn, trying to figure out more information on the topic Lance has put so much effort into closing. “Stop it.”

“I just can’t picture it.” Keith sighs, shoulders slumping. Lance’s blush deepens somehow.

“I didn’t _ask you_ to picture it!”

“Nope, no, I can’t imagine her ever letting you fuck her.” Keith confirms then, shaking his head as if to finalize his decision. He looks back to Lance then. “Did _she_ fuck _you_? Did you let her peg you?”

“No!” Lance blurts out, maybe with a bit too much eagerness, but only because the last thing he needs is for a new rumor to spread around the camp and make things awkward for Allura all over again. Also because the thought of Allura pegging him… is admittedly not a thought he wants to explore right now.

Not because he still has feelings for her, he truly is well past his pining post-breakup stage. 

More because the idea of any pretty woman pegging him isn’t the kind of thought he wants to share when Keith Kogane is sitting in the same bed as him, just looking for a reason to make fun of him.

“You _would_ be one of those guys that’s all weird about butt stuff.” Keith concludes, sliding out of the bed as casual as ever, like that’s the nail in the coffin of the conversation. And though Lance hadn’t particularly wanted to keep talking to him, he can’t have him walk away thinking that Lance is some close-minded hypermasculine idiot. He just can’t.

“I’m not weird about it!” Lance insists, so loud and hurried that he barely even recognizes the sheer pitch his voice reaches. He clears his throat, ignoring the dubious look Keith is directing at him. “I’m not! I’ve just never dated anyone that had any interest in it so it’s never happened. That’s it. End of story.”

For a long, long moment Keith simply stares at him.

So long, in fact, that Lance has time to mentally repeat everything he’d said and pick it apart, trying to figure out exactly where he went wrong. What part of what he’d just said was incriminating enough to have Keith looking at him like _this_ , like he can _see right through him_. Damn it.

Finally, Keith steps closer again, and settles on the edge of the mattress again. 

This time, he’s closer to Lance, close enough to reach out and settle a hand on his thigh with far too much confidence considering Lance never once implied he might allow it.

“But you _wanna_ try it, huh?” Keith whispers then, all low and alluring, his voice as effortlessly smooth as a lover’s caress and _fuck_. Lance squirms away from his touch, feeling inexplicably hot, like he might catch the sheets aflame if Keith doesn’t fuck off right this second. 

With that, Keith gets back to his feet with a yawn, stretching his arms above his head. “Alright, kudos, you’re cooler than I thought. Still _technically_ a virgin.”

“I’ve had things up my ass, Keith, just not people.” Lance blurts, without thinking it through. Keith glances over his shoulder at him, his smile contagious, bright and bold and beautiful, like Lance has just confessed his feelings to him rather than the fact he’s put a variety of sex toys into his no-no zone.

“Still a virgin.” Keith concludes. Lance glowers at him, torn between being offended and being flustered by the amount of consideration Keith is giving the topic. “It’s different from your own fingers or toys, getting fucked. It’s better. So much better.”

“Thanks for the review, Keith, coming from the resident cabin _slut_.” Lance scoffs, rolling over to face the wall, essentially deeming the conversation closed. He listens to Keith shuffling around the room, undressing and climbing into his own bed, and figures that’s the end of it.

It should be the end of it.

It _could’ve been_ the end, if it weren’t for the fact that Keith is a ginormous fucking _prick_.

“I could show you.” Keith says, nearly twenty minutes later, into the darkness of the room. Lance doesn’t roll over, but his fist tightens around the handful of blankets he’s holding, and his breath catches so noticeably that Keith must hear it. “Wouldn’t be a hardship, I don’t exactly have many options here and it’s been a while since I’ve topped anyone. Never fucked a _virgin_ either.”

At first, Lance debates pretending he’s asleep, that he hadn’t heard the invitation at all.

Then, for a fleeting moment, he debates rolling over and taking Keith up on the offer.

In the end, he settles on dismissing it as the joke it probably is.

“Very funny.” 

“Not a joke.” Keith deadpans, tone completely flat.

“Yeah, sure, not a joke. Whatever.” Lance mutters, shaking his head and curling up tighter under the covers, trying to ignore the direction his thoughts have veered off. 

Keith fucking him. That’s a thought, certainly. One he hadn’t entertained until this very moment, but might actually haunt him for the rest of the fucking summer. 

He can feel the blood rushing southward, knows it’s going to be a long night of trying to fall asleep. It’s not like he can get off, not when Keith’s right there, would know exactly what got him so hot and bothered in the first place.

\--

Lance expects things to get awkward between them following that late night conversation, but he’s pleasantly surprised by how much Keith doesn’t try to gloat his new knowledge or hold it over Lance’s head as some sort-of blackmail material. He’s cool about it, aside from the virgin jokes, those just keep coming. To the point that James and Kinkade join in, no matter how much they know it’s not the truth.

Keith doesn’t bring up his offer again and Lance doesn’t dare to, in fear of what he might say.

So things continue on as normal, or whatever normal is between Keith and Lance, and for the most part it’s tolerable. It’s almost fun at times, like when Lance beats Keith in a competition finally, and can show off his medal with all the pride that Keith had. Or when Keith gets put on barbecue duty and burns his hand, and Lance is the one who gets to sit there with a smirk on his face the entire time he bandages it, entirely too amused by Keith’s suffering.

This whole rivalry thing has its appeals, keeps them both busy, keeps them both striving to do and be better than one another. One night when Lance is in Shiro and Hunk’s cabin, Shiro pulls him aside and praises him personally for how much progress Keith has made, how far he’s come out of his shell.

It isn’t until he’s walking home that night, really thinking about it, that Lance realizes how much Keith has started to interact with the others through Lance. Whether it’s teasing him, sneaking up to scare him when he’s around the other counselors, or just their ridiculous competitions that the others start to look forward to and watch from afar… Keith is really starting to fit in. In his own way.

Granted, Lance would never dare to tell him that, not when it feels like admitting defeat.

\--

Halfway through the summer, in the middle of every camp year, they have a field day. 

All the kids, all of their parents and immediate family, and all the counselors are all invited out.

It’s one of Lance’s favorite days of the year, even before he became a counselor he found himself spending copious amounts of time in the main hall, helping Coran plan it. This year is no exception to the rule, he spends all of his spare time planning games and competitions, meticulously going over the food and seating plans, until he’s losing sleep over it.

Keith walks in on him in this zombie-like state and rather than making fun of him… volunteers to help.

This year’s field day? It’s the best one they’ve ever had.

_Even if_ Keith beats him at all the counselor competitions. _Even if_ Keith flings a melted sticky marshmallow at him from across the bonfire. _Even if_ Keith sneaks a bottle of vodka into the main hall that night and gets ridiculously drunk, leaving Lance to carry his stupid ass back to their cabin.

\--

He’s not sure how it happens, especially because they’re not friends, but he finds himself gravitating toward Keith outside of their forced close-quarters in their shared cabin. Throughout the day, Keith spends more time tailing Lance around than he does Shiro. At lunch, Keith starts inviting himself to sit at Lance’s table, sometimes even plopping himself right down into Lance’s lap. 

Stranger still, Lance finds that he doesn’t _mind_ it.

When Lance comes marching into the main hall looking for his lunch once all the kids have eaten, he finds Keith standing in the line and beelines straight for him. Nevermind everyone else waiting in the line, Lance slips in ahead of Keith easily, a shit-eating grin on his face as he turns to look at him.

“You should give me your spot and go to the back of the line.” Lance tells him, grinning cheekily, pretending not to notice the scowl on Keith’s features. He’s kind of cute when his thick eyebrows drop down, furrowing together over his eyes, like a bulldog or something.

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Why would I fuck myself when I have you dying to do it for me?” It’s the first time Lance has brought up Keith’s _offer_ in the three weeks following it. In hindsight, he could have used more subtlety, been a little bit more gentle about it. But this is the game they play, toeing the line between bickering and bullying.

Lance hadn’t expected a positive reaction, but he couldn’t have possibly _prepared_ for Keith’s response.

One of those gloved hands darts out and hits him between the legs. Open-palm. A bitch slap to his junk with nothing but a pair of Hawaiian shorts to save him from the blow, followed by a blatant _squeeze_ to his soft cock with enough force behind it to be more painful than pleasurable.

“Fuck!” Lance curses, loud enough that everyone in the hall turns to stare in their direction, watching as Lance collapses inward and nearly loses his footing. Brusquely, as if feeling guilty for his actions, Keith wraps an arm around his midsection and hauls him upright again. 

Lance feels the tears pricking his eyes, searing pain engulfing his entire groin, and he doesn’t hesitate to bury his face into Keith’s chest and mutter a variety of Spanish curses. He thinks he might even feel Keith’s chest shake with laughter, but by the time he lifts his head Keith has schooled his features again.

“You gonna make it?” Keith asks, biting back a smile, and Lance hopes his glare comes across as murderous as he feels right now. In a split second, his hand darts to try and smack Keith in the crotch right back, but Keith must have been expecting it because he grabs Lance’s wrist effortlessly.

“Did you just bag-tag me?! What are you, _twelve_?!”

“I, uh-” Keith stammers. Lance keeps staring at him all the while, expecting an answer, maybe an apology. He’s pretty sure there are still tears clinging to his eyelashes, damn it, and he knows he has a mean pout when he breaks it out. Keith looks flustered, maybe by the amount of attention drawn their way, but the way he’s neglecting to look Lance in the eye says otherwise. 

“ _What_?” Lance demands.

“I was really off with the tiny dick thing, huh?”

_Oh._

Not _exactly_ an apology, but Lance will take it.

Only thing is, he can’t exactly bask in the success of hearing Keith admit he’s _hung_ , because now that the pain has faded and Lance has processed the fact that Keith’s stupid-sexy fingerless gloves were all up on his cock… well, let’s just say that Lance is wondering if he might be a masochist after all.

“Well, glad we had this talk, but I’m gonna go sit down now.” Lance blurts, despite the fact that he hasn’t even gotten his food yet. He turns on his heel, walking stiffly forward, trying to ignore the stiffy in his pants. It’s a foolproof plan, except for all the reasons that it isn’t, and Keith just grabs his arm and hauls him back in against his chest like it’s nothing.

Lance stands there, wide-eyed and mortified, his cock half-hard and his back pressed up against Keith’s chest. He can feel the line of Keith’s body slotted up against his, all firm muscle and bulk, and he thinks he might want to cry when his cock throbs harder in response.

Keith pushes him ahead a step as the line moves ahead, then leans down close enough that Lance can feel his breath ghosting across the nape of his neck.

“Are you _hard_ ?” Keith asks, amusement evident in his tone, and Lance can’t offer much in response beyond a pathetic whimper. Then, as if they aren’t standing in the middle of the fucking main hall filled with other counselors, Keith’s hand slides off of Lance’s wrist and darts between his legs again. He finds the answer to his question himself, grabbing Lance’s bulge through his shorts, far gentler about it this time. “Oh my god, you _are_ , you got a chub because of _that_?”

“You shouldn’t have groped me in the first place, pervert.” Lance snaps, grabbing his wrist and wrenching his hand away, trying in vain to compose himself. He steps forward, putting space between them, and Keith at least has the decency not to follow quite so closely.

“I didn’t mean anything like _that_!” Keith insists, his tone light, void of the usual mocking sarcasm that Lance has grown so used to. Curious, Lance glances back at him over his shoulder, and is thrown for a loop when he finds Keith’s face alight with a blush.

Huh. Not as untouchable as he’d like to seem, then.

By then, Lance is finally at the head of the line, so he does his best to readjust his shorts and then hurries to fill his tray. He might as well get his food after coming this far for it. He can deal with his problem after he eats, assuming it hasn’t died down by then. Nothing kills a boner like having one in an awkward public situation, imagine if one of the other counselors were to notice and call him out on it.

With a heaping tray of food, Lance turns and starts toward their table.

Keith, predictably, is right on his heels like usual.

“Further evidence that you’re bad in bed, just saying.” Keith says, conversationally, through the corner of his mouth like he’s trying to hide what he’s saying from the rest of the room. Lance snorts.

“How the hell is _this_ evidence?”

“You get hard with one stroke, probably come in ten.” Keith muses, looking at him. “Am I wrong?”

“ _Obviously_.” 

“Then _prove it_.” Keith demands, as they settle into their seats, side-by-side. Lance turns to him, his expression schooled into indifference, aiming for bored with the entire topic.

“Are you asking me to fuck you again? Seriously, Keith, get over it. I’m _not_ sleeping with you.” Lance tells him, void of expression, his tone blank, no giveaways whether he’s being remotely serious or sarcastic.

Keith glares at him, though Lance can’t help but notice the way his gaze drops to the pout of his lips and lingers there instead, the glare looking less angry and more hungry by the second.

“Uh, guys?” Hunk clears his throat from across the table, clearly at a loss by the tidbits of conversation he’s overheard already. Lance waves a hand through the air, dismissing him without ever breaking eye contact with Keith, determined to hold on as long as possible without backing down.

“Not now, Hunk.” 

\--

As it nears the end of summer, the counselors find themselves spending more and more time together, realizing the year is drawing to a close and soon they’ll be going their separate ways again. They stay up late around bonfires, they sneak out to go swimming by the moonlight, they hang-out in the kitchens and sit around while Hunk tries experimental new recipes for them to taste test.

There’s a bittersweet air that hangs over them though, as the month draws to a close, the final week stretching out ahead of them. Lance, in particular, always struggles with this part the most. 

Saying goodbye to all the kids, knowing that some of them won’t be coming back next year.

Saying goodbye to all his friends, knowing they live too far apart to ever get together as a group outside of camp.

Saying goodbye to Keith… not knowing a damn thing about where they stand with each other.

Like it or not, though their competitive streaks still burn bright, Lance can’t even deny anymore that they’ve become too close to be considered _enemies_ . They talk about things now, things other than each other’s skills in bed, things that _matter_. Truth be told, Keith is the first person Lance ever comes out to, one night when they were both mostly asleep on their respective sides of the cabin, when the conversation topic drifted to Keith’s experiences as a gay man.

Lance just… blurted it out. That he was pretty sure he was bisexual. 

Something that’s been sitting heavy with him for years, off the tip of his tongue just like that. The thing he’s been too nervous to tell his family, to tell Hunk, to even admit to himself fully. And Keith didn’t make fun of him for it, didn’t even react beyond a sleepy chuckle and a smile in his direction, a quick mumble of reassurance that it was _okay_ if it took him longer to figure it out.

But what _are they_ then? Lance doesn’t know. He can’t tell. He doesn’t know the first thing about how he feels and he knows even less about whatever emotions Keith is harboring in his own chest.

They’re inseparable lately, day and night, glued to each other’s sides like two halves of a whole.

The kids love it, a two-for-one deal of both of their favorite counselors? Perfect.

The other counselors think it’s strange, Lance knows they do, but they don’t comment.

And Shiro? Lance doesn’t even know how to interpret those sidelong grins and thumbs-up he directs Lance’s way, whenever he thinks that Keith won’t see them.

For the most part, Lance tries not to think about it too hard, figures he’ll only frustrate himself with the lack of answers and fill himself with anxiety as the days count down to the end of the year. He relishes the time he gets, until the very last night, when the kids have already gone home and the counselors are all packing their things to go home the next morning. 

Everyone’s staying up all night, naturally, now that they have no children to supervise or worry about.

Shiro himself was the one to bring the alcohol tonight, like he thought Keith deserved a treat for lasting the entire summer. No one gets nearly as drunk this time though, there’s no rush, no desire to blur the memories they’re forming around the fire. They sip at drinks until they all have a similar pleasant buzz, leaning into each other and singing, reflecting on the summer and all of its highlights.

Keith is settled beside Lance on a log they’d rolled over, a familiar green hoodie hanging over his hands, his hair pulled back into a ponytail. He’s in his element, joking with James and Kinkade and flinging marshmallows around again, leaning into Lance’s side so heavily that eventually Lance caves and slings an arm around his shoulders. Keith pauses at that, glancing over at him.

Lance’s chest feels too tight, constricting around his heart, forcing it up into his throat.

The firelight dances across Keith’s dair hair, reflects in his eyes, illuminates the curve of his lips.

Lance averts his eyes, grabbing his drink with his free hand and chugging it down, swallowing around that lump in his throat. With a shrug, he feels Keith turn back to the others, picking up his conversation where it left off. Across the fire, Lance doesn’t miss the way Shiro is grinning at him, and he wants to kick sparks in his direction to get him to knock it off.

It’s not like that. They’re not _together_. They’re not… it’s not that straightforward.

“Jesus, James, turn your volume down. No one wants to hear how many Tinder messages you’re getting, you’re not impressing anyone.” Kinkade speaks up loudly, elbowing his friend in the side. James ignores him, digging his phone out to type a reply to whatever message he’d just gotten. 

“And here I thought _Lance_ was the one with all the game.” Keith comments, easy, a grin spreading across his face as he turns to face Lance again. They hold eye contact for a long moment, Lance silently daring him to continue that train of thought. “Virgin boy over here probably doesn’t even know what Tinder _is_.”

“Would you fuck off?” Lance groans, playfully swatting at his leg. “How many times do I have to tell you?! I’m not a virgin. I haven’t been a virgin in almost four years.”

“Can confirm. Not a virgin.” Allura offers from the other side of the fire, lifting one of her fingers from her can of beer and wiggling it back and forth. “Sorry, Keith, beat you to the punch.”

Lance tenses, wondering if Keith is going to bring up the whole pegging topic.

“Yeah, but he might as well be.” Keith says, instead. “I mean, how good was he? _Really_?”

Curious, Lance lifts his head enough to stare over at Allura, waiting on her reaction. He watches various emotions flicker across her face, a glimpse of a smile before it’s quickly chased away. He wants to punch Keith in the gut for making him sit through a fucking review of his first time having sex right now.

“Uh, well, I’ve had worse?” Allura settles on, earning a combustion of laughter from James and Kinkade, and even Keith gives a breathy laugh. Lance’s jaw drops and he bolts upright, gaping at her. “Hey! If it helps, I wasn’t expecting great things from your first time. No one lasts very long when their first-”

“I was fifteen!” Lance shouts, reaching to clamp his hand over Keith’s mouth before he can begin to say something insulting. “I’ve been with _so many_ girls since, trust me, I’ve honed my skills.”

“ _So many_ , huh?” Allura repeats, quirking an eyebrow, her expression equal parts amused and annoyed.

“Not like _that_! I’m not like sleeping around, I’m not-” Keith saves him from his own floundering, reaching up and yanking his hand away, so he can speak up over Lance’s stuttering.

“You know what, I bet I could make a girl come faster than you and I’m _gay_.”

“Shit.” Even Hunk laughs at that one, a little giggle that Lance would find cute any other time, but right now it only has him glaring at his own best friend. With a bitter sigh, Lance tips his head back to stare up at the stars overhead, searching for his patience within himself.

“Those are fighting words, Lance, are you gonna take him up on it?” James sniggers, biting into a smore.

“What a shame, but I can’t. We don’t have two willing girls here to fulfill that bet.” Lance shrugs, dropping his arm from Keith’s shoulders and stretching it above his head instead. Keith drops his hand to Lance’s thigh, giving it a squeeze, and Lance chokes on the yawn he’d been exhaling.

“No worries. I could tweak the bet a little bit, get creative with it.” Keith whispers, winking at him.

The moment hangs between them, lingering long enough that Lance is sure everyone else must be staring and trying to decipher their wordless conversation. Keith’s expression open and expectant, Lance’s wide-eyed and flustered, and that damned hand that keeps sliding higher on his thigh.

Lance is pretty sure at this point that it’s not a joke, that Keith is actually propositioning him.

“You could play soggy biscuit.” James speaks up, shattering the moment. Lance is only slightly comforted by the fact that everyone else around the fire, Keith included, look equally as confused on what the fuck James is talking about. “Wank biscuit, ookie cookie, _cum cracker_? You’ve never heard of it?”

“You know what, I’m gonna take a leave from this conversation.” Allura says suddenly, rising to her feet with an air of grace entirely contradictory to the sudden atmosphere of the circle. She turns, smiling kindly at the boys that’d been sitting on either side of her. “Shiro? Hunk? Care to join me for a swim?”

“Yeah, sorry guys, but I’m out.” Hunk agrees hastily, scrambling to follow after her. Shiro doesn’t even deign them with a verbal goodbye, just shoots Keith a miserable look, to which Keith raises his middle finger in response, and then Shiro drags his feet away from the fire.

The second he’s gone, Keith turns to James with wide eyes.

“ _How do you play_?”

“Well, I am so glad you asked.” James grins, as sleazy as ever, and Lance watches on in horror as Keith leans closer to pay close attention. “It’s a frat thing, mostly, I think? We did it as a hazing ritual a couple years back, thank _god_ I didn’t lose. Basically, a group of guys stand around a cookie or a cracker, jack it, and whoever comes first wins.”

“Last to come has to eat the jizz cookie.” Kinkade adds, _oh_ so helpfully.

“Huh.” Keith muses, licking his lips in thought, and Lance can already tell that he’s thinking hard about this, far harder than what’s probably warranted given the simplicity of the “rules” of the game. Unable to help himself, Lance blurts out the obvious question.

“How does that prove you’re _good_ in bed? Wouldn’t the _last_ to come be better in bed, objectively?”

“It’s all about self-control, Lance, there are situations where you wanna last and situations where you gotta come fast. All depends where you’re sticking your dick.” Keith says, matter-of-factly, like he’s a professor teaching a wayward student. He turns back to Lance, but he’s miscalculated how close they’ve both leaned to James, and their noses end up brushing. 

Like this, so close that Lance can see the specks of blues and purples littered through Keith’s irises like galaxies, he forgets the topic altogether. Even Keith takes a moment to form a response and fumble through it. “I wouldn’t expect a _virgin_ to know that, though. You can take as long as you want when you’re only fucking your own hand.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Lance lands his hands on Keith’s chest and shoves him bodily off the log they’ve been sharing all night, all but snarling at him in annoyance. Lance gets to his feet, stands over his crumpled form on the ground and stares down the line of his nose. “Let’s play. If I beat you, you have to admit once and for all that I’m not a virgin and that I’m good in bed… better than you!”

“And if _I_ win?” Keith asks, smirking as he props himself up. He’s a vision in the grass, legs spread wide and hair falling in his eyes, Lance’s sweater hanging loosely off his frame. Fuck. “What do I get?” 

“Whatever you want.” Lance replies, with far less foresight than what’s probably necessary. 

Apparently pleased with that answer, Keith scrambles upright and turns to the other two boys, who’d both gone uncharacteristically silent while they watched _that_ exchange play out. Maybe they can smell the homoeroticism on the air.

“What about you guys? You in?” Keith asks, grinning like the cat who’s got the canary already.

“No way. No one _volunteers_ to play soggy biscuit. Are you fucking crazy?” James snorts, exchanging an incredulous look with Kinkade, who simply shrugs his shoulders in indifference. Keith gives a dramatic forlorn sigh, turning back to Lance with a pout.

“Guess it’s just the two of us, babe.” Keith tells him. “You wanna accompany me to the kitchens to pick your cookie of choice? You know, seeing as you’ll be the one eating it, seems only fair you get to pick.”

“Whatever, jackass.” Lance laughs, throwing his hands up in defeat and turning to start toward the main hall, pretending his heart isn’t beating a million miles per second even with the alcohol buzz working to keep him calm. 

Keith catches up to him a few seconds later, jogging until he reaches his side and then slowing back down to Lance’s casual gait, dropping an arm to fit around his waist. Lance glances over at him. “Are we actually doing this?”

“Do you not want to?” Keith asks, turning to him so closely that their foreheads nearly touch. Lance swallows hard, looking into those dark eyes. “I mean, you seemed pretty confident that you were gonna win, what do you have to lose?”

“Well, nothing, but I’m just saying… if we don’t want to, we don’t _have to_ , no one’s gonna be here to call us out if we don’t go through with it.” Lance explains, stepping ahead to hold open the door for the both of them, letting them slip into the main hall side-by-side. They head straight for the kitchen, Keith’s usual single-minded determination making a guest appearance.

“So, you _don’t_ want to go through with it?”

“I didn’t say _that_ .” Lance argues, hopping up to sit on the counter, watching as Keith starts rooting through the cupboards to find his desired target. “I’m just _saying_.”

“Uh-huh.” Keith looks over at him, grinning in that devilishly charming way. “Nervous you won’t be able to get it up, huh? It’s okay, Lance, I won’t tell the other guys.”

“What? No!” Lance leans down on the counter, stretching his leg out as far as possible to give Keith’s butt a little tap with the toe of his shoe, not even enough momentum to count as a kick. With that, Keith turns back to his work and goes back to digging around in the camp’s groceries.

“I would suggest the oreos, but I think they’re too overpowering, it defeats the purpose of the challenge if you can’t taste it.” Keith mutters, mostly to himself. Lance scoffs. “I’m kinda leaning toward saltine crackers, they might get soggy, but at least they’re salty to begin with so there’s no clashing flavors.”

“I’m gonna slap you.” Lance says, decisively, sliding down from the counter. Keith turns to face him as he sidles up next to him, wearing a wide shameless grin that stretches across the entirety of his face.

“Yeah? Where at? I might be into that.” Keith tells him, to which Lance promptly slaps him on the cheek and his smile doesn’t even falter. Keith doesn’t even miss a beat before continuing the conversation like nothing even happened. “Wanna do this in our cabin? More privacy, the doors there actually lock.”

“Sure, whatever.” Lance chuckles, just going with the flow at this point, staring at the sleeve of crackers in Keith’s grip like they’re something far more ominous than they really are.

It’s a short walk back to their cabin, made shorter still by the surprisingly easy conversation that flits between them, and the way that Keith knocks his shoulder against Lance’s every few steps as if to reel his attention back in. It’s hard to get lost in his anxious thoughts when Keith is right there to distract him.

Keith walks into the cabin first, tossing the crackers down on his bed and then immediately pulling Lance’s hoodie off, tossing it aside as well. Lance follows him in, gingerly kicking off his shoes. Keith catches his gaze from across the room and Lance watches with wide eyes as he reaches down, readjusting himself through his jeans. It’s dark, but Lance is sure he can make out the outline of his cock from here, already hard within the confines of his clothes.

“You sure you don’t wanna call it off?” Keith asks then, purposely goading. Lance rolls his eyes.

“I’m not calling it off if you’re not.”

“Ditto.” Keith says, fetching a single cracker out of the package and dropping it onto the short bedside table between their two beds. Lance can’t help but think it’s a convenient height for this. Keith comes to stand beside it, now rubbing at himself over his clothes, eyes still glued to Lance all the while.

This part? Lance had drastically underestimated. He’d been so caught up on the strangeness of it, the embarrassment of fighting to come first and making an idiot out of himself, of Keith finally seeing him bare… he’d failed to even consider how hot it would be to watch Keith touch himself.

Lance stumbles across the room, standing across from him. He’s not fully hard yet, but the longer he watches Keith grind his palm against himself, bucking against his palm… the closer he’s getting to it.

Keith reaches over to turn on the lamp, then points at Lance. “Drop your pants.”

“You first.” Lance insists, maybe a little childishly, but Keith takes it in stride. He doesn’t even question it, he just shrugs his shoulders and then shoves both articles of clothing down his legs, like he’s done it a hundred times before. Hell, maybe he has, Keith did claim that he hooks up a lot.

But in Lance’s repertoire of three girls, all of which had been limited to dark rooms and quickies, nerves burning through him the entire time they expected him to take the lead… he’d never experienced anything quite like the shameless way Keith spits in his palm and brings it right down to his cock.

There’s no floundering. No hesitation. No room for bashfulness. 

Keith exudes confidence, even takes the time to strip his shirt over his head, until he’s standing there fully nude fisting his cock and making eye contact all the while. Lance doesn’t know where to look, doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how he got to this point.

Keith’s cock is _pretty_ , though Lance would never quote himself on that.

Framed by trimmed dark hairs, so pale that Lance can make out the veins standing out against the soft skin from here, and the head of it is flushed pink with pre-cum beading at the slit already. It’s not quite as long as his own, but it’s _thick_ , a good five inches with so much girth that Lance knows from experience (with silicone, admittedly) that it’d feel _amazing_ to have that stretching him open. Hell, his fingers barely even wrap around it all the way.

“Lance? You with me? You having a gay awakening over there?” Keith jokes. “We don’t have to-”

“Shut-up, Keith.” Lance snaps, because the absolute _last_ thing he wants is for this to come to an end.

With that, he slips his fingers into the waistband of the joggers he’s wearing and yanks them down over the swell of his ass, letting them pool at his feet. He hadn’t bothered to wear underwear today, mostly because every pair had been dirty and the camp laundry cabin was an air conditioning-less hell… but hey, Keith seems to appreciate it, if the way he licks his lips in answer says anything.

Lance turns to reach beneath his pillows, returning with a bottle of lube. Keith looks slightly betrayed, using only spit to smooth his own way, so Lance takes pity on him and holds the bottle out. Two dollops of lube in both their palms, their hands return to their cocks and get to work.

“Damn, it’s funny, I thought I was the designated cabin slut around here. Yet, you’re the one walking around with nothing on underneath, giving easy access.” Keith muses, flashing a toothy grin.

“Fuck you.” Lance grumbles, but the blow is softened by how shaky his voice is, growing breathy from the first few strokes of his own lube-covered hand. Deciding that he’s been staring at Keith for maybe too long, he looks down and instead he watches his own cockhead as it pokes out of his grip. 

“Maybe later, but right now I have a game to win. Stop distracting me.”

Belatedly, he remembers that they’re playing a game here, a game that he’d rather not lose. But, he’s fairly confident he has the advantage here. While Keith was off experimenting with other people, learning what they liked and how to handle them… Lance had all the time in the world to experiment with himself. He’s tried every toy out there, tried every technique, every household item that can possibly be used to masturbate with. 

Long story short? Lance knows his body and he knows it _intimately_. 

Not to mention how many years he’s spent living in a family of ten, obviously he knows how to do the deed fast by now, to avoid getting caught.

With a wicked grin, Lance speeds up his hand, jerking himself in short little flicks of his wrist. Keith takes notice of it right away, smirking as he watches Lance tug at his cock harder. Once he’s sure Keith is paying attention, Lance takes it a step further. He pulls his foreskin back with the pad of his thumb and then rubs over the sensitive head directly, whimpering as his hips stutter forward on their own accord.

Across from him, Keith gives a groan that almost sounds _pained_. 

“God, you’re infuriating.” Keith mutters suddenly, through gritted teeth. Lance glances up at him, watching through lidded eyes as Keith fucks his fist in quick snaps of his hips. Lance’s mind wanders pathetically, to the thought of Keith on top of him, pistoning into his body with that same ferocity behind his thrusts. “All pretty and perfect, the golden boy, everyone’s favorite… yet here you are, spending your last day here all alone with me, doing unthinkable things to this poor saltine cracker.”

“What can I say? I value good company.”

“I feel so _honored_ that I can be the one to ruin you.” Keith whispers back, the words sounding far heavier than Lance can wrap his head around right now, brain foggy with lust. “Imagine what _Shiro_ would think if he saw you like this.”

“Contrary to what you seem to believe, I’d rather _not_ think about Shiro when I’m jerking it.” Lance manages between breathy pants, rolling his hips into his own touch, chasing the sensation.

“No?” Keith grunts, and Lance can barely pay attention to anything over the slap of skin, Keith’s hand moving so fast that Lance can hear the wet squelch of his cock fucking through the mess of lube in his palm. He closes his eyes, imagines it’s the sound of Keith fucking him open instead. “Who are you thinking about then?”

“Don’t— _hha_ , _fucking hell_ , _shit_ —don’t ask stupid questions.” Lance whines, keening softly as he pays more attention to the dripping head of his cock, tracing his thumb back and forth across his slit as it twitches helplessly beneath his touch. It’s too much. Some guys would shy away from this much direct stimulation to the most sensitive part of their body, but Lance has touched himself so much at this point that the pleasant ache of _too much_ is a welcome one. 

“I’m getting close, think you can catch up?” Keith huffs out then, his voice husky with exertion. 

Realizing the intensity of the situation, Lance brings his free hand around behind himself and traces down the seam of his ass, slipping a finger inside of himself up to the first knuckle. It’s nowhere near enough to touch his prostate, but it’s not about that, it’s the feeling of _fullness._

He quickly upgrades to two fingertips, just enough lube aiding the way to make the slide inside easy, but not enough that he can’t feel the ache of the sudden stretch. It’s been a long time since he’s done this, weeks really, sharing a tiny cabin with your rival doesn’t leave much time for proper self-love sessions.

Across from him, he can’t read Keith’s expression no matter how he tries.

“What’s wrong, Kogane? Thought you were the number one advocate for butt stuff?”

“Fuck, Lance, don’t _do_ that.” Keith moans, placing his free hand on the table beside the cracker and leaning further over it. Lance meets him halfway, giggling as he presses their foreheads together, staring into Keith’s eyes and admiring his pupils where they’re blown black with lust.

“Why not?” He whispers, licking his lips teasingly. “Feels good. _Really_ good. Ah, god, _Keith_. I’m close.”

Lance rocks between his hands, frustrated by the standing angle, wishing he could fuck himself on his fingers properly. A part of him wants to say to hell with the game and just fall back against his bed, give in to the urge to get himself off how he really likes it. Keith could watch, he somehow doubts he’d get any complaints.

But he’s invested too much now, especially when Keith is still wearing that smirk like he thinks he’s going to be the one to win. Oh, how wrong he is, he has no idea how close Lance is getting. 

His cock is pulsing in his grip, balls drawing up tight against his body, pleasure blinding where it washes over him like a wave. Any second now, any second, he just needs a little more to get him there-

“Wish I was on my knees for you right now.” Keith blurts, his filter apparently gone this close to orgasm, if the way he winces afterward is an indicator. He continues though, forcing his eyes back open to meet Lance’s stare. “What I’d _give_ to get that big cock down my throat. All hot and heavy on my tongue, I’d make you come in thirty seconds _flat_. I wanna make you scream.”

“Fuck.” Lance moans, squeezing his cock to hold off on coming, forgetting the point of the game because he doesn’t want this to be over just yet. He wants Keith to keep talking, to keep telling him about all the things he wants to do to him. “N-No one’s stopping you.”

“What?” Keith chuckles, sounding weak, like Lance is taking him apart gutturally with his words.

“You think I’d say no to you taking me down your throat?” Lance whispers, tilting his chin forward and brushing their lips together, a mockery of a real kiss. “I bet you’re good at it. You should _show me_.”

With _that_ comment, Keith finally realizes his intentions, his eyes darting open wide as he scrambles to back off and put space between them. He looks wrecked, his hair damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed.

“No way. I’m _not_ letting you win.”

“You’re sorta too late.” Lance laughs breathlessly, closing his eyes as he feels the pleasure build, already building up to that peak he’d tried to back down from before. It’s even more intense now, blinding where it’s creeping up on him, breathy gasps slipping past his lips before he can hope to stop them.

“Fuck off. You’re coming? You-”

“I’m close. So fucking close.” Lance groans, leaning forward and letting his fingers slip free of his ass with the change in position. He leans over the table until he’s falling forward and burying his face into Keith’s collarbone, breathing against his skin. “Say something, help me get there.” 

“Why would I help you? I’m not that far behind, I-” Keith cuts himself off abruptly when Lance tilts his head to the side and fits his lips against the curve of Keith’s neck, sucking hard and then dragging his tongue across the same spot, nipping at it and relishing the way Keith’s breath hitches in answer.

“Please?” Lance whispers, giggling to himself. “Oh, Keith, please. I _need_ you.”

“I wanna fuck you.” Keith says, hurriedly, like he can’t get the words out fast enough. Lance keens pathetically, hips hitching forward into his own touch. “Ever since you told me, I can’t stop thinking about it. I wanna be the first to be inside of you. I don’t want anyone else to know what noises you make, how much you squirm when you take my fingers, fuck, you’re gonna be such a cockslut and I already know it.”

“Oh, I’m coming, Keith, I’m gonna come, I-” Lance stumbles through his warning, feeling the pressure build, his cock twitching in his hold. Keith turns his head to the side and buries his face into his hair, shushing him quietly, and before Lance knows it… Keith’s hand is replacing his own.

Keith gets three good strokes in, base to tip, squeezing and milking Lance’s cock with that strong hold of his… before Lance can’t hold out any longer and comes so hard he _shouts_.

Lance doesn’t have it in him to even remember the cracker, much less attempt to aim, as his pleasure engulfs him in a searing flame of ecstasy. Luckily, Keith seems to have his head about him, because he keeps working Lance’s cock through it, with gentle coaxing slides of his fingertips over the shaft, even stopping to toy with his foreskin like he’s curious about it.

And Lance doesn’t have it in him to care about a damn thing, feeling disoriented with the force of his high, as his cock pulses and spills in thick streaks of white across the table between them.

The thing to break Lance out of the moment, to bring him back down from cloud nine, is ironically Keith’s own orgasm. It’s not even a full minute later when his punched-out groan fills the room, all low and gritty, and Lance wishes he could listen to that noise on repeat. As it is, he rushes to lean back and open his eyes, wanting to watch.

Keith looks like he walked straight off of a porn set, his ab muscles clenching so hard that Lance could trace the outline of each one with a fingertip, his entire body tensing as his fist moves over his cock in a blur. He’s gorgeous, the kind of guy that Lance could never tire of looking at, and he feels any lingering doubt about his bisexuality leave him in one heavy breath.

Lance licks his lips, watching as the first pulse of cum shoots from Keith’s cock. 

It lands across the cracker with startling accuracy, considering Keith’s eyes are screwed shut in bliss.

“That’s it, baby, just like that.” Lance coaxes on impulse, because he’s used to talking women through it, used to filling the silence with words to calm himself more than anything else. But oh, Keith seems to _like_ it, his chest shuddering with the weight of the breath he sucks in. His cock leaks a few more weak juts of cum, all but dripping onto the cracker in it’s thoroughly soaked state. 

Lance bites his tongue, keeps from saying anything else for a long moment, until Keith’s eyes eventually open and he comes back to himself enough to process. Then, and only then, does Lance launch into his gloating victory. 

“I win!” Lance announces gleefully, clapping his hands together excitedly, falling back against his mattress gracelessly and looking up at Keith with a shit-eating grin. Keith blinks a few times, still shuddering through the last of his orgasm, now with a scowl printed across his pretty features.

“It was a tie.” Keith argues, weakly, because even he knows that’s not the truth.

“You only came because you were watching me come, don’t try to deny it.”

“Yeah, but I helped you, it shouldn’t-”

“You did that voluntarily, it counts.” Lance interrupts him, sitting up straighter to watch. “Eat the cracker.”

The cracker in question still sits between them, stuck to the table in a puddle of jizz, and truth be told if Lance was the one in Keith’s shoes right now… he’d be the sore loser refusing to pay up. Obviously. He would sooner take off running into the woods in his current half-dressed state, cock hanging out for the bears to get an eyeful of, than eat that fucking cracker.

“You’re gross.” Keith tells him, matter-of-factly, settling onto his own bed.

And then it’s just them, sitting across from each other with their softening cocks hanging out between their legs, staring each other down wordlessly in an unspoken challenge. The cracker between them.

“I’m gross?! You were the one that wanted to do this!”

“You never said you _didn’t_ want to do it!”

“Neither did you!” 

“Fuck you!”

“Oh, trust me, I know how much you want to! You went into great detail, you’re a true poet, Kogane.”

“Seriously? You’re gonna hold that over my head _now_? You’re more of an asshole than I thought.”

“Yep, you bet.” Lance grins, leaning forward and poking the cracker with a single finger, sliding it across the table toward him. Keith glares at him. “Open wide and take it, come on, you know you want to.”

“I hate you.” Keith tells him, his tone flat enough that it’s almost believable, and given the undefined nature of their friendship maybe Lance should worry it might be true. As it is, he just smiles harder, abandons the cracker entirely to instead drag his finger through the mess they’d made of the table.

With a long, forlorn sigh like he’s truly being made to commit murder… Keith picks up the cracker.

“Not like you don’t drink your fair share of cum voluntarily, _slut_.” Lance accuses, a little cruelly maybe.

“Whatever, _virgin_.” Keith responds with a snarl, then just like that he pops the cracker into his mouth, all in one piece. Lance isn’t sure whether he’s disgusted or impressed as he watches Keith chew, not even a hint of hesitation as his jaw works. Truth be told, he’s starting to think it might be possible to combine the two emotions into one, because he feels both nauseous and hopelessly endeared by the sheer idiocy of the man sitting across from him. 

Lance reaches across the table, swiping his thumb across the corner of Keith’s mouth and cleaning away the weak dribble of white that spilled over. “That’s it, now be a good boy, _swallow it_.”

He watches as Keith swallows obediently, hears the audible gulp of it in the quiet of the room.

Keith takes a moment to compose himself, looking thoughtful as he licks his lips, like he doesn’t know the right words to say to possibly sum up the experience he’d just had.

“It’s not that bad.” Keith announces then, suddenly, and Lance nearly does a double-take. 

Keith has a cheeky grin on his face that has no right to be there. He should be _disgusted_ , or at the very least off-put by what he’s just done. Instead, he looks smug, like he was the winner of this competition somehow, like he knows something Lance doesn’t. 

Then, in horror, Lance watches him swipe his finger through the mess on the table and then bring it back to his mouth, making a show of dragging _that_ across his tongue too. Lance gapes at him.

“What the _fuck_ , Keith?”

“You said it yourself, I’m a total cumslut.”

“You’re not funny.”

“Have you ever tried it?”

“Obviously not.”

“Not even your own?”

“You’re disgusting.” Lance huffs, flopping back against his pillows, shaking his head. 

“Aw, come on, you don’t wanna give me a goodnight kiss?” Keith taunts him, and Lance doesn’t even bother looking over at him, instead putting a conscious effort into not acknowledging his existence until he’s brushed his teeth or taken a drink or something. Ugh.

He closes his eyes, not moving a muscle until he hears Keith walking around the room, fumbling to clean up their mess and hopefully himself in the process. Then, and only then, does Lance let one of his eyes crack open to watch him.

They don’t really have a bathroom in their cabin, but they have a mirror and a few jugs of water, so Lance watches Keith wander around the room while he scrubs his toothbrush over his teeth and tongue.

He looks, for all intents and purposes, like the trainwreck Lance thought he was all those weeks ago.

Sweaty, skin clammy and shiny looking, probably smells at least a little bit like B.O. His hair has grown out a lot over the summer, past his nape, so long it can’t even really be called a mullet anymore. He’s still ass-fucking naked, even when he opens the door to the cabin and steps outside, spitting his mouthful of toothpast into the dirt. Heaven help the poor counselor who walks back to their cabin late tonight and gets a free peep show on the way.

He’s stupid. He’s maybe the stupidest guy Lance has ever met. 

There’s absolutely no reason for him to feel these mixed feelings in his chest, heavy and full, so painfully invested in what’s happening here despite all the unknowns that surround it. He has no idea what they are now, they haven’t even verbally addressed the fact that they’re friends yet, the last time Keith weighed in was when he declared them enemies and said he didn’t like Lance the day after they met.

Lance doesn’t think that’s the case anymore, though.

He hopes not.

When Keith turns around again, Lance’s eyes are already closed, and he’s curled up tight under the covers without bothering to pull any clothes on. He’s comfortable, but he’s far from asleep, though Keith doesn’t seem to realize that as he tiptoes across the room. His footsteps are surprisingly light, but Lance is awake, and therefore can hear the way they walk to the edge of his bed and then _stop_. 

He lets a long moment pass, waiting for Keith to say something or announce his presence, not daring to move a muscle and risk giving away the fact that he’s asleep. Lance has never been a particularly patient person though and Keith seems determined to stare at him the entire night through, Edward Cullen-style, so maybe Lance… sneaks a hand out from beneath the covers to reach out and grab a handful of that round ass he’d been admiring before.

Keith startles, jumping at the first ghost of a touch, but then relaxes into it with a chuckle.

“Who’s the pervert now?”

“Pretty sure it’s _still_ you, cum connoisseur.” Lance offers, cracking one eye open to squint up at him, a sleepy smile worming its way across his face. Keith is staring back at him, and for once it isn’t a glare. Lance isn’t quite sure what it is, he might be too tired to figure it out, but he’s certain he likes it.

“Are you falling asleep? Are you one of those guys that passes out as soon as you bust?” Keith asks then, reaching down to ping Lance’s nose. Lance doesn’t react, just shifts over in his bed, closer to the wall to evade the touch and wordlessly invite him in. Keith doesn’t take the hint. “Yet another sign that you’re bad in bed, one more tally for the board, sooner or later you’re gonna have to admit-”

“Come here.” Lance interrupts him, deciding that he’s tired with their game for tonight.

“What?” Keith sounds remarkably, and adorably, confused. 

“I’m gonna show you the best part of sex.” Lance tells him then, rolling over to look at him, deciding then and there that he’s going to show Keith exactly what he’s missing. He’s not going to half-ass it, not going to face the wall all night and pretend he doesn’t want it just as badly. He opens his arms, batting his eyelashes all pretty-like, trying to entice Keith into his bed.

Keith doesn’t need to be told twice, he clambers into the bed so hurriedly that they end up knocking knees and sending a pillow toppling to the floor. Lance doesn’t care, not when he has such a great replacement sharing his bed now. He doesn’t even let Keith get comfortable before he makes his move, slithering in against his side and dropping his head to his chest.

Lance sighs, nuzzling into Keith’s pec like he belongs there, dropping a hand to his chest and running his fingers through the short hair speckled across his pale skin.

He’s asleep within minutes, can’t remember a time he’d ever been so quick to doze off in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you all enjoyed it! This was an incredibly fun dynamic to explore, I won't lie, it's been a while since I've leaned into the "rivalry" klance aspect so heavily. It's sent me on a bit of a memory lane trip and I've spent a lot of time thinking about early days klance lately, not good for my heart but hopefully good for my writing hehe.
> 
> also i've listened to the troye sivan song this is named after legit 50+ times since it came out yesterday and i wanted to give it a more creative name but my mind just KEPT comign back to this so..
> 
> Be sure to follow me on my social media for updates of what I'm working on and pictures of my wieners (dogs, they're wiener DOGS)
> 
> @melancholymango is my main twitter/tumblr  
> @redgaysonly is my nsfw fandom twitter, 18+ only please


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